


Halloween

by BirdWhistle



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Naughty Community College Professor, Overqualified Female Professor Wasting Her Talents At Greendale For Some Reason, Pseudo-literary Porn I guess, Smut, seriously just porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 00:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdWhistle/pseuds/BirdWhistle
Summary: Peter Pan and Supergirl get it on.





	Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> I deeply believe Duncan and Britta would be great together, but I also believe in an alternative universe in which Duncan has sex with a colleague of his. This is that universe. 
> 
> Also, John Oliver looks ridiculously sexy wearing a Peter Pan costume (Google it).

She'd been drinking.

She'd had two beers and two amazeballs shots of tequila. She wasn't drunk, nor did she intend to be; she was tipsy enough to shed all traces of sheepishness but still preserve her train of thought and, to a certain degree, her sense of dignity.

She'd spotted him among the members of the infamous study group, that horde of codependent freaks. They were not overly acquainted: they'd been colleagues for less than a year, and while he did make a rather amusing attempt to hit on her only a few minutes after they first met, she'd made it clear she wasn't interested. Not only is he a semi-functional alcoholic -he has been sober for a few weeks and is trying hard to stay on the wagon, though, but Clara doesn't know that-, he's also so very... british.

She can't deny she likes his accent, an accent that may sound posh to many americans but that she recognizes as working class limey, but it's almost like he tries to make himself as unlikeable as possible. He isn't particularly handsome, either, less so when he's with Winger, that statuesque friend of his, but she's certainly met homelier dudes.

She -and many women- will concede this: he's got beautiful dimples. And tonight she has noticed that his thick, dark eyebrows are _not_ unattractive. But it's not his eyebrows what's caught her attention. Any other day, he'd be dressed as a faux Ivy League professor, but tonight, Ian Duncan is dressed as Peter Pan.

When she saw him, she actually gasped. He looked so... fit. Ian was tall, but he seemed to have lost some weight, so he looked a tad taller. The costume highlighted his broad shoulders and narrow hips, traits she hadn't really noticed before, which confused her, because she thought people's brains were always scanning for potential mates, and Ian's considerable height and more than appropriate shoulder-to-hip ratio signified an advantage from an evolutionary point of view. That stupid brit was also _sans_ glasses tonight. His eyes weren't as dark as they appeared behind the spectacles; they were the color of honey, or fruitwood, and his thick, dark eyebrows provided a nice contrast. Yes, Jeff Winger was still more attractive, but Ian Duncan looked... he looked quite fuckable. 

“Were they blocking your way to the bar?”, she asked as she approached him. Duncan turned around, slightly startled. He eyed her from head to toe, and Clara could see he approved of her costume. She was dressed as Supergirl, even though she wasn't very familiar with that particular superhero.

A friend of hers offered her the costume, saying it would suit her; with a wink, she also told Clara it wasn't difficult to get around should naughty circumstances arise. Clara had chuckled and replied that she wasn't desperate enough to let her super knickers be torn off by a Greendale professor (students were, naturally, out of the question). That hadn't been exactly true; while she wouldn't be actively looking to get some action at the Halloween party, she was pretty horny -she hadn't gotten laid in months- and a shot of tequila or two might change her mind. So she donned the skimpy outfit and half-hoped someone else's hands got to feel the soft fabric right before feeling _her_ up. 

Ian Duncan was, much to his chagrin, sober. Had he been drinking, he most definitely would have made an inappropriate comment upon seeing Professor Dumas in that Supergirl costume. She was already attractive wearing her much too serious work outfits that left a lot to the imagination, but seeing her in a revealing Halloween costume was a delicious sight.

“They were keeping me from getting some food, actually. They are an awfully chatty bunch, I'm afraid”, he replied.

Clara nodded, noticing how he was trying to keep his gaze from traveling downward. She smirked. The tequila had made her chest and belly all warm and tingly and, more importantly, bolder than she normally was. She did not wish to waste time on pleasantries; she wanted to rid him of that costume and shag him silly.

“So, do you like my costume?”, asked Clara. He widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. That was pretty much an invitation to check her out, wasn't it? She seemed to notice his doubt, cause she insisted.

“Come on, look at it and tell me the truth. I'll give you the full view!”, she said, giggling, as she twirled in front of him. When she faced him again, she was standing one step closer.

Ian was speechless. Was she... was she hitting on him? She looked absolutely stunning in that costume, which showed a lot of skin: her neck was bare, save for the little string that held the cape in place; a narrow fringe of her belly was visible, and it looked soft and creamy and very, very lickable; her legs, long and slender, showed from under the high hem of the skirt; her breasts, dear God, her breasts were bloody perfect, they looked like they'd fit perfectly in his hands.

Ian gave her a nervous smile. In situations like this, the alcohol made him brave -too brave, more often than not; in that moment, he didn't know how to react. Clara stepped a bit closer.

“So, what’s your verdict?”. Ian looked at her in the eye and made a choice. He was willing to recognize that the times when women would openly flirt with him didn’t abound, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of recognizing it. He wondered what Clara Dumas was trying to achieve, and the best way to find out was to just roll with it.

“You look delicious, Professor”, he almost whispered. He too took a step forward; they were close enough to touch, but much too far to kiss. He felt a growing need to just fucking kiss her.

That was all Clara needed: a clear sign that he was willing to follow her to an empty classroom or a storage room and let her claw at that Peter Pan costume. But what should she say next? What should she do? She didn’t want to be crass or tacky.

“I wanna show you something”, she said, and turned around. Not awfully clever or classy, but it would do. She heard Ian’s steps behind her, which saved her the trouble of looking back to make sure he was following her.

**Author's Note:**

> I split it in two for... reasons.


End file.
